


Behind the Red Mask

by AngleHeadedHipsters



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: AU in which Iris has always known, Barry Allen - Freeform, Barry and Iris, Eddie is still alive and Iris still thinks they're just friends., F/M, Iris West - Freeform, Season 1, Season 1 Barry Allen, Season 1 Iris West, Secret Identity
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 12:21:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12935166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngleHeadedHipsters/pseuds/AngleHeadedHipsters
Summary: Iris knows.If she tried, she could probably pinpoint the exact moment she figured it out. But mostly it feels like she's always known. It took time, but eventually minuscule details and memories pulled together to paint the bigger picture that was always right in front of her.Iris knows the truth, but she needs him to say it out loud first.Behind the Red Mask: or, All the Times Iris West Saw Barry Allen for Who He Really Is





	1. Confrontations, pt. 1

In a room where people unanimously maintain a conspiracy of silence,

one word of truth sounds like a pistol shot.

Czeslaw Milosz

* * *

_AFTER_

It’s weird--sitting in the middle of his childhood room, comparing and contrasting the boy he was to the man he’s become. Even stranger, the amount of anger festering inside her. It’s not that she’s never been mad at him in all their time knowing each other, but she’s never been so upset that it leaves a bitter taste on her tongue--that it feels more like betrayal than anything else.

 Time and time again, she has tried to understand. And really, she does; she’s not so blind in her anger that she can’t see reason. But she’s _Iris_. He’s _Barry_. They’re best friends. Confidants. The only people in the world either would feel comfortable enough to share everything with. And yet.

Across the room, a framed picture of them catches her eye. Pushing up from the floor, she snatches the frame off his desk before falling into the old spinning chair. Despite how angry she is, a small smile tugs on her lips until it's a full-blown grin that she can't shake off. She remembers the day the photo was taken with vivid clarity. They were 11, and Barry had been staying with them for a few months at that point. It took a long time and a lot of convincing, but her dad had finally gotten Barry to agree to a night out.

Neither she nor her dad could understand the feelings of a young boy who had witnessed his mother's murder, but they both went out of their way to lessen his pain, if only a little, as often as they could. That day, her dad had treated them to a simple dinner and dessert at Barry's favorite ice cream parlor. It was the first time either of them had seen a genuine smile on Barry's face--the first time in a long time that the tension around him was light and airy rather than suffocating. 

The picture itself had been captured while she was mid-joke--a joke she would later come to find out she'd told completely wrong, of course. Barry's head was thrown back, his mouth open wide with infectious laughter as if she had already told the punchline. Behind the camera, her dad had been howling with laughter, too, but he was as clueless to the promise she'd made herself in that moment as the sad boy beside her was: she would protect him at all cost forever, even when he outgrew needing her to look after him. Do whatever it took to see that look on his face over and over again.

That promise is what makes it easier to accept the _why_ , positive that he feels the same way toward her, but she can't quite wrap her brain around the _how_. If their roles were reversed, she doesn't think she would make the same decisions that he did. Doesn't think she'd have the stomach to lie to him day after day. How could she?

 Her phone buzzes in her pocket, dragging her out of her thoughts. She puts the picture back exactly as it was and pulls her phone out. The name flashing across the screen isn't who she wants it to be. The words don't say what she wants them to, and it's nearly impossible to quell the disappointment washing over her.

 

_**Be home late. Chinese?** _

 

Guilt knots in her stomach, and for a moment she falters in her resolve. Eddie doesn't know she's here. He wouldn't freak out if he did know, she was sure, but something had felt wrong about telling him anything before she spoke to Barry. Briefly, she considers calling and explaining as much as she can, but she can't bring herself to do it. It would feel like another betrayal, and there's enough of that going around. So, she shoots off a quick text wishing him home safe and requesting Thai instead then turns off her phone. It's the only way her guilt won't force her to do something she might regret.

 

Another hour passes before she hears the front door slam. She stands, absentmindedly checking her appearance in the long, rectangular mirror hanging on the back of his door. She flattens the wrinkles in her skirt, refusing to acknowledge that she's also drying her sweaty palms because she's suddenly nervous.

 _I'm Iris. He's Barry._   _Everything's okay._ This becomes her mantra up until he's standing in front of her, concern obvious in his green eyes.

"Have you been waiting long?"

_Yes._

"No. I've been here a few more minutes than you have." At the white lie, she wonders if it ever becomes any easier for him. "Thanks for coming, Bar."

He nods. "Of course. I wouldn't be anywhere else."

If he notices the way she tenses when he walks past her, he doesn't say anything. Instead, he takes a seat on his bed that's still covered in cartoon characters and levels her with a look that indicates he's ready when she is.

"You sounded upset on the phone," Barry says after awkward silence settles over them. His voice is wary, as if it's slowly dawning on him that this conversation will be much different from what he could have imagined. "What's going on?"

Iris had a plan. A speech--reprimands and forgiveness all rolled into one. She wasn't going to let emotion muddle her judgement any more than she already had. She was even going to be petty for a day or two, make him sweat until she was ready to speak with him again. But now that he's here, she's kind of at a loss for words, and she's feeling too much and not enough all at once. She wants to hug him and never let go, grateful that he's still in one piece after everything he's done. Ask him a million questions starting from "when?" to "how the fuck is this even possible?"

 "Were you ever going to tell me?" she asks when she can finally open her mouth, voice cracking from the force of everything she's holding back. "Were you ever going to reach a point in your new career where you thought, 'Hey, maybe Iris deserves to know what I'm doing now. What I am'?"

Barry goes still, and she can see in his eyes the moment he decides to lie. Again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first time with WestAllen, so be gentle. 
> 
> What are we thinking?


	2. The Return of Barry Allen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All the love has been as intimidating as it is appreciated. Thank you.

_BEFORE_

Back-to-back research papers were kicking her ass. Overtime at Jitters was testing her patience; majority of her energy was spent trying to not take the customers' lack of manners personally and the rest proving to her boss that she could handle more hours. She was exhausted and more than a little irritable. Every blue moon, she questioned whether it was all worth it--sometimes dreamed of quitting and running away. But that wasn't her. She didn't quit, and she didn't run. Instead, she carried on, ignoring the ache in her feet and the hole in her chest--pretended she didn't notice the worried glances her dad tried to hide during quiet dinners at home. These days, her only relief came in the form of being so overwhelmed that she couldn't think past the stress. Unhealthy as it was, she couldn't stomach the alternative.

"Earth to Iris!"

She blinked, her co-worker slowly coming into focus. Endless chatter and dishes clanking against one another welcomed her back into the reality that was CC Jitters during peak. The coffee she was pouring brimmed at the surface of the tiny ceramic mug. Just before the freshly brewed liquid  could spill over onto her hand, she set the large carafe down. Rolling her eyes, she dismissed the other woman's confusion with a wave of her hand.

"Midterms," she said by way of explanation, chuckling. "They're trying their hardest to make me regret the path of higher education."

Tracy snorted, and she nodded in understanding.  “Let’s not even talk about it. I can already feel the hives trying to form.” Dropping her load of dirty dishes in the sink, she placed her hand on her hip and lifted a messy brow. “I’d much rather talk about a certain _party_ that a certain _someone_ has yet to agree to attend with me.”

“Right. The so-called party of the century. Unfortunately, I’m going to have to pass.” Carefully, she relieved the mug of some of its coffee then quickly began making her way around the counter; she could see the exasperation on her customer’s face, and she realized she’d been lost in her thoughts longer than she should've been. “Next time, though!” she threw over her shoulder, grinning.

She was polite and apologetic when she finally gave the stocky man his drink, offering a free pastry that she thought complimented his black coffee best, but her mind was miles away. Tracy had unknowingly hit a nerve.

She thought it was a stretch to call herself a recluse--after all, she had a boyfriend who loved her too much to watch her wither away like that--but she hadn’t been very sociable, either, outside of him. Nine months ago, Iris West would have said yes. She was an expert at balancing work and play, and she would have taken that break and then hopped back into her papers the next day with ease. But that was before the accident--before her best friend was in a coma with little hope of waking up again.

These days, going out seemed meaningless. Unfair, even. She was here, still able to live a normal life, and he wasn’t. He wouldn’t want her to, but she felt guilty even entertaining the idea of celebrating. To ease said guilt, and to momentarily forget where Barry was, she buried herself in work. In school. In any and everything that would force her to remain planted firmly on the ground while still allowing her the freedom of being being alone. But grief was...a real bastard. It invaded her thoughts whenever her guard was down and forced her to remember. Tried to make her accept the things she couldn't change.

She supposed there was no real relief, after all.

* * *

She struggled through the last two hours of her shift, could feel herself unraveling with each second that ticked by. As it turned out, the nerve Tracy had struck was a lot more sensitive than Iris would have liked to admit. Normally, she could at least make it home before being strong became too much even for her, but now she couldn't find the switch to shut her brain off. She worried it would only take a tiny something to set her off.

Like that guy who had his same green eyes, except they weren't quite as radiant. Or the kid who had his same goofy personality, though less reserved. Perhaps the young woman she overheard gushing over a new science thing she learned the same way he did, just not as...science-y. But if neither of them proved to be her undoing, it would certainly be the man who had his same face, only more awake than her Barry. And more horizontal. And-

"Barry?"

He met her eyes through the glass as if he heard her call out to him, and she sucked in a breath. Her hands began to tremble as it slowly dawned on her that she wasn't looking at a man who simply _resembled_ her Barry. It _was_ her Barry. And then her body was moving before her brain had time to react, quickly abandoning the couple she'd been helping. They'd be annoyed, but she was sure the metal carafe she left behind without another thought would soothe at least some of their irritation.

Barry was only just in the door before she was in his arms, holding onto him as if he was the glue she needed to keep from falling apart right then and there. And he was. And he felt more than capable of holding her together, his embrace stronger than she remembered. More defined.

"I don't understand. You're awake. What are you doing here? Why didn't Star Labs call?" She moved back, but only far enough to see his face. She was sure they made quite a sight, their matching face-splitting grins and not-so-quiet reunion, but she couldn't care less if she tried. "Are you even supposed to be on your feet?"

"Iris, I'm okay." Barry laughed. "I just woke up, and I came straight here. I had to see you."

Iris bristled, not sure why she was more worried than the person who had actually been in the coma. "I watched you die, Barry. You _kept_ dying. Your heart kept stopping. You-"

He took her hand, placing it directly over his heart, effectively cutting her rant short. It thumped against her hand rapidly, and she wondered if that should be a cause of concern. The way she could almost feel it was definitely not normal. But ultimately, she chalked it up to adrenaline of being awake after nine months; however, there was lingering doubt in the back of her mind. Something was...different.

"It's still beating," he assured her, holding her hand against him a moment longer. " _I'm okay_."

She was going to make a comment on how fast his heart was beating, not yet ready to let it go like she thought, but her words were interrupted by a crash and a tiny, embarrassed "oh!" Behind her, her co-woker and a customer had clashed, and both were scrambling to clean up the mess they'd made. 

"You okay, Tracy?" she asked, willing to help if needed. But Tracy simply nodded and waved her off, so she turned back to Barry and laughed. It was all she could do when she looked at him, too overjoyed for much else. He was awake and seemingly healthy and in one piece. What else was there to do? "My dad is going to be so happy to see you. Let me get my stuff, okay?"

She didn't give him time to respond, ripping off her apron and sprinting to the back. There was still 45 minutes left on her shift, but her boss had been pushing her to take some time off, anyway--he wouldn't give her too much trouble for skipping out early. Besides, the morning rush was over, so she wouldn't be leaving Tracy in a bad spot. The next person would be there to take her place before things picked up again. Sure that nothing would go wrong in her absence, she made quick work of clocking out, slipped on her coat, and stuffed what she needed into her bag before shouldering it. Double checking that she wasn't leaving anything behind or out of place, she hummed in satisfaction and skipped out of the break room. 

When Iris rounded the corner back to the front, she glimpsed a flash of concern on Barry's face. He was staring off into space, his shoulders tense. But any further signs of discomfort were gone as quickly as they came. By time she was standing in front of him again, it felt as if she'd imagined the whole thing.

"You ready?" she asked, looping her arm through his.

"More than you know." He tilted his head slightly, encouraging her to take the lead. "After you."

For the first time in nine months, as they walked out of Jitters arm-in-arm and playing catch up, Iris felt at peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm more nervous posting the second chapter than I was the first. Are you all still with me?
> 
> There's no beta for this little story, by the way. Please forgive me for any mistakes I missed.

**Author's Note:**

> This won't be very long. Just a few chapters from Iris' perspective during certain events.


End file.
